


the ballad of resignation

by angeldunne



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Awkward Boners, Bottom Rick Grimes, Choking, Dacryphilia, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Kissing, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rick is dominant for literally like one second, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Slut Shaming, So Much Fucking Humiliation, Submission, Submissive Rick Grimes, Top Negan (Walking Dead), Verbal Humiliation, degradation kink, dominant Negan, sort of but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:53:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29516298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeldunne/pseuds/angeldunne
Summary: rick doesn't want to submit to negan but he doesn't have much say in the matter. or maybe he wishes that he didn't. maybe that would make it easier.
Relationships: Rick Grimes/Negan
Comments: 24
Kudos: 57





	1. after

**Author's Note:**

> so i love this ship, haven't even watched an episode with negan in it yet, but they're hot together. probably like 5 years late to this party, but better late than never after i've exhausted ever single fic of them on here. i figure there are probably people like me, searching for more good content, so here it is.
> 
> i haven't edited and i think i probably will. don't know how many chapters this'll be. enjoy.

Negan’s eyes are dark, always, but then especially at night.

He doesn’t often come at night—The Saviors usually peel down the road in their rickety trucks in daylight, when the sun’s blazing relentlessly, and Rick can feel rivulets of sweat race down his back.

Negan is performative, that much is true. He prefers to come in the day when he can be seen in all of his glory, when he can stand tall in his grandeur. He likes to cloak Alexandria in a tenebrous shadow all his own, splitting his face in a condescending grin and sweeping through the crowd with a predatory, domineering glint in his eye. He likes to swing Lucille around, hoist her on his shoulder and show her off like some sort of prize and best of all, he likes to let Rick hold her. Rick always avoids his eyes in those moments, knowing that the weight of the look in Negan’s eye might push him over the edge.

He knows that if he ever does look, if Negan ever makes him, it’ll end bloody.

He thinks the last of him will be sprawled out thin, gristle, guts and brains on asphalt. He hasn’t decided who _him_ is. He thinks maybe both of them.

Negan hardly comes at night and Rick thinks that’s fine. Rick likes to enjoy his nights best as he can, curled underneath blankets and staring out his window at the milky fluorescence of the moon. He likes to pretend, shut his eyes and dream about realities different than the one he’s currently facing. He likes to think about before, back when Lori was beautiful and _alive,_ and Carl was youthful with both sparkling blue eyes.

It never lasts, reality is jealous that way—Lori always goes back to being nothing but a walker’s lunch and Carl is still hiding behind bandages and bangs, carrying guns that aren’t as heavy in his palm as they used to be, with the kind of confidence Rick hadn’t mastered for years. Glenn and Abraham are still dead, crushed into nothing and Negan is still here, taking everything from him even though there’s nothing left.

Tonight, though, is different.

Carl, Michonne and Judith are sleeping, and Negan is here, Aaron looking sheepish behind his hulking figure. Aaron’s mouth is parted, words tripping on his tongue, coming out cluttered and rushed, as he stares at Rick with pleading eyes. “I didn’t—I _couldn’t_. I d-didn’t know what else to do Rick.”

Negan’s grinning ear to ear, eyebrows raised as he stares at Aaron. “ _Ho_ -ly shit. You are one sad motherfucker. You really think I’m gonna start letting Lucille give out kisses just cause somebody didn’t open the gate at ass o’clock in the night for me?”

Aaron’s mouth gapes. Rick can feel his brain thumping against his skull. Negan laughs. “I—”

“I mean what kind of monster d’you think I am exactly?” Negan asks. “I’d have to be one sick fucker to start bashing skulls because you sleeping bastards didn’t rush out to let me in. Not gonna lie, that shit _is_ funny as hell to think about, but I actually think I’m a little offended here. I don’t know, I just don’t think I’m that brand of sadist fuck.” He drawls, turning his head toward Rick. Rick’s breath hitches in his throat despite himself, eyes heavy. Negan cocks an eyebrow. His voice comes again, lower. “What do you think, Rick? That sound like some shit I’d pull?”

“Stop.” Rick answers simply, balling his fists lightly. He looks at the floor, then back at Aaron. “It’s okay. You can go.”

“Really?” Negan lifts both his eyebrows. “You know what, I’m glad it’s okay. I’m not complainin’.”

Aaron shoots Rick a puzzled look and Rick feels his chest open. He really doesn’t want to deal with this. He clenches his eyes shut for a second then tries to gather the most warmth he can. “Go on, Aaron. It’s fine.”

Aaron looks sickly, reluctant, before he says, “You sure, Rick?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Rick—”

“ _Jesus_.” Negan huffs, rolling his eyes. Rick gives him a sharp look and Negan challenges it with one of his own, playful humor over inquisitiveness and something else that makes Rick swallow. He knows what Negan’s going to say before he says it, but it still makes him go red in the face. “What, are you two _fucking_ or something?”

“Negan—”

“No, I’m just _curious_ , Rick. If you are, you don’t have to tell me shit but I’d really like to know with the way he’s just about sucking your dick here.” Negan says and Aaron looks confused, mortified even.

“Jesus, Negan.” Rick hisses.

Negan grins, dimples deepening. He adds softly, “Just asking.”

Rick looks at Aaron again, apologetically and Aaron adverts his eyes with a nod. Speechlessly, he begins to walk away. Rick wants to reassure him that they’ll talk in the morning, but he doesn’t have the energy, just watches Aaron’s figure go into the darkness, further and further until he can’t see him anymore.

His eyes fall to the floor again, sticking on the porch. His jaw clenches. “Why?” He asks.

Negan’s boots move in Rick’s vision as he steps closer. His voice is a deep rumble. “I missed you.”

Rick works his teeth so tight he feels like they might start to dust away. His hands tremble at his sides. “Don’t.”

“Rick.”

“Don’t.”

“ _Riiick_.” He sing-songs, moving even closer and Rick’s feet feel glued to the ground. He can feel Negan’s body heat radiating from him. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

Rick jerkily shakes his head, tearing his eyes away from the floor in pure shock. His eyebrows knit and he stares right into Negan’s eyes. He almost gets lost in their darkness, in the unadulterated sensuality inside of them. It shocks him even more, the audacity of him, to come to his house at this time of night, with his children sleeping inside, with his _wife_ sleeping inside. Anger licks up Rick’s spine and he knows Negan sees it when amusement drapes over his face.

“Well?”

“You’re crazy.”

“Am I, now?” Negan looks down at him, placing a hand on his chest. “I just wanna fuckin’ talk, Rick. I’m not asking you to fuckin’ bend over for me, I’m only asking you to let me inside, _Jesus_.”

“ _Stop that_.” Rick seethes, a blush crawling up his neck. “Why do you always have to… do that?”

“What?” Negan asks.

Rick blinks. “You know what I mean, Negan.”

“I absolutely do not, Rick and I don’t really like what you’re insinuating here.”

Rick’s eyes widen. “What _I’m_ insinuating?”

“Yes, Rick, what _you_ are insinuating.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. I don’t appreciate you calling me a liar.” Negan says. He cocks his head to the side. “Let me in, Rick.”

Rick shuts his eyes, trying desperately to calm himself. He wishes he could evaporate into thin air and be done with this, with it all. His lip trembles when he feels a hand brush his thigh, eyes flying open. Negan’s staring downward, at his boxers, and Rick goes red again at the realization that he didn’t put on any pants to answer the door. Negan’s rubbing the hem through his thumb and index. Rick finds that he can’t say much of anything and his mouth parts, words dying on his tongue. The brush of Negan’s fingers on his bare skin makes him shudder and it takes all he has not to make an incriminating sound. “Please, Negan.”

Negan doesn’t even look upwards, eyes still trained on Rick’s thighs. “Please what, Rick?”

“They’re upstairs. You can’t.”

“I told you I just want to talk. I promise, Rick.”

Negan stops feeling the fabric, fingers splaying out on the expanse of Rick’s skin instead as he softly kneads his thigh. Once, twice, “I’ll be good.” He says, finally, dropping his hand back to his side, the other one gripping Lucille’s handle as she sits on his shoulder.

He looks at Rick again, finally, Adam’s Apple bobbing and a combination of things Rick doesn’t want to unpack swimming in his eyes.

Negan’s jacket brushes his shoulder on the way in.

* * *

Rick’s always considered himself multitalented, skillful, pragmatic even.

He has been in enough situations where he has had to multitask—when you’re on your last can of food, stomach feeling like it’s eating itself and you’ve only got a couple minutes worth of time to clear out the cabinet full of supplies, with walkers snarling and growling, just this close to knocking the door down, you’ve really got no choice but to multitask. It’s either that or death in those kinds of situations.

This situation feels a lot like that.

His eyes are skirting from Negan sprawled out on the couch like an over-familiar guest and the archway, that any member of his family could come tumbling through at any given second. He’s minding how close they are, how things might appear to be, which is a hard enough feat. The thing about shit getting muddled, things mixing that should never mix, events happening that should never happen, is that once it does, your perception of reality is forever tainted. Rick knows this, he’s well acquainted with the fact now.

Everything Negan does, every look he gives him, every touch—it’s all tainted. It can never go back to the way it used to be—when it was innocent and normal. It can never be chalked up to Negan being an asshole, using his power to intimidate Rick, ever again. At least not from Rick’s point of view. Rick can’t _not_ read into every move he makes, every word they exchange, he can’t not wonder how it must look to others, because, _fuck_ , Rick knows how it feels.

Before, it never felt this way. It felt like disgust, like bile rising in his throat, raw, sweltering anger and plotting, wishing on any god that was listening to bestow patience upon him so that he wouldn’t do something Alexandrians would no doubt bear the brunt of.

Now, though, it feels different. It feels wrong. It feels hot, heavy and pulsating. It feels like embarrassment, humiliation, resentment—most of the things it used to feel like, yes, but for an entirely different reason. Negan’s eyes lock on his on the back swing of another glance to the archway and Rick almost chokes. He buries his nails into his palms.

Negan’s head cocks, just so. His legs spread out, just so. The corner of his mouth lifts. “Why don’t you come sit beside me, Rick?” Rick instantly shakes his head, making a quick sound of refusal. Negan’s eyebrow lifts. “I can hardly talk to you properly with you standing over there like some security fuck.”

“I’m fine here.”

Negan smiles, no teeth. In the darkness, Rick still can see that it doesn’t make it up to his eyes. “I ain’t gonna ask again, Rick.”

His tone of voice makes Rick shudder, the authority drapes over him like a blanket and he takes a step forward, involuntarily, cursing himself for it. He swallows. “Negan.”

“Now, Rick.” He replies.

So, Rick takes a breath, stalking over to where Negan’s sitting on the couch. He sits robotically, unsure of whether or not Negan might just yank him downwards. He doesn’t, and Rick sits, relaxing best as he can into the chair. He feels the leather of Negan’s jacket on his neck, arm outstretched behind him and he quickly straightens, sitting up better. He looks down at his hands, fidgeting. He hears Negan take a breath. “You are wound tighter than a tiger’s ass tonight, Rick. What is up with that?” Negan says, surprisingly soft, and Rick realizes with a bit of warmth that he’s trying to keep his voice down. He doesn’t give Rick time to answer before he says, “Be honest here, Rick, is it me? I _know_ I caught that fishy shit by the door. Was I right? Are you and that Aaron guy rolling around in the sack? He dipping his dick in you? Not that it’s any of my business, but seriously Rick, if that’s the case, I think I’ve got the right to be just a little jeal—”

“ _Stop_.” Rick hisses, looking at him. Negan’s face is split with a wide grin. Rick scowls. “What is wrong with you?”

“Like what?”

“Why are you—” Rick swallows. “Why are you even here? Why would you come here now, of all times?”

“Why not, Rick?” Negan replies, coolly.

“It’s…” Negan eyes him, waiting for him to finish. Rick searches for words, minding them carefully. He settles on, “It’s dangerous.”

Negan looks surprised. “Well, goddamn it, Rick. I didn’t know you cared if I was a walker’s midnight snack or not. I appreciate that. Thank you.”

Rick flushes. “I didn’t...”

“I know what you meant.” Negan sighs. He shifts, moving closer to Rick. Rick leans backward on instinct, shuffling away from him but Negan brings his arm down, gloved hand gripping Rick’s shoulder. Negan leans forward until their noses almost touch and Rick’s hands shake. “You meant, it’s dangerous for your people to see me slippin’ inside your house at night. Right?” Rick grits his teeth, looking away and Negan’s free hand comes up to grip his chin. “Oh, no you don’t. Eyes on Daddy.”

Rick dick twitches and he flushes in shame at the action, feeling betrayed by his own body. His eyes flutter and Negan chuckles, low. “Yeah, I know. I know you don’t want anybody knowing about this shit _right here_.”

“Negan, please,” Rick manages, breath hitching as the hand on his shoulder lowers, caressing as it does.

“What you think they’d do if they found out, Rick?” He asks, conversationally, as if his hand isn’t gripping Rick’s waist. Rick screws his eyes shut tight when Negan shifts, disappearing into his neck, beard scratching against the sensitive skin. Rick can feel his lips ghosting over him, trailing up to his ear. “What would they say?”

“I don’t know.” Rick says on an exhale.

“You do. I do. I know exactly what they’d say if they found out you get hard enough to cut glass for me.” Negan says and Rick can feel him smile against his neck. “That you like it when I touch you, that though you refuse to let me get a single goddamn taste of that ass, you sure as all fuck do think about me ramming it like a fuckin’ bull.”

Rick has to bite back an obscene sound, gripping his knees. His dick is fully hard now, pressing up against the fabric of his underwear. He’s leaking, air cooling the fabric that’s against his tip. _Fuck_.

“If you had a pussy, it’d be fuckin’ soaked right now, wouldn’t it, Rick?” Negan states more than asks, hand sliding down to ghost over Rick’s dick. Rick answers anyway, a broken sound. “I know. Boy do I _know_ that shit is right.”

Negan squeezes his dick, lightly, and Rick moans softly, biting his lip in alarm. Negan finally kisses his neck properly, open mouthed and everything, tongue sliding up his skin and teeth grazing. Rick can feel the way he wants to bite him, wants to suck the skin hard, leave marks for everyone to see, because that’s who Negan _is_. He wants to show everyone just to what extent he fucking owns Rick, wants everyone to see that Rick is completely his, but he knows that he can’t, that Rick would probably never speak to him again, would never let him touch him this way again and most certainly would never let him fuck him.

So, Negan licks and sucks and bites lightly, deep groans rumbling in his throat and communicating his need to Rick, who feels like he might burst from the sheer knowledge that he’s doing this with his entire family upstairs. With Negan’s hand slowly teasing at his dick and his mouth on his neck, Rick aches, feels the emptiness inside of him cry out for satiation. He knows this isn’t enough, it can’t be when Negan tugs, pulling him closer and Rick lets him pull him into his lap. Negan’s erection digs right into the cleft of his ass and he feels his hole clench. “Negan.” He moans, breathlessly, still mindful of his cadence, the way his voice carries through the dark.

When Negan’s fingers slip under the waistband of his boxers, just sitting there at his hips, Rick finds himself wishing that he’d make it easy. He wishes Negan would make him, would yank his underwear off and force himself inside. It’s a horrible thought but it absolves Rick of the horror and humiliation of consenting to his enemy defiling, conquering and dominating him fully and finally. Rick could never, he would never—he feels shame stirring in his chest. What _would_ his people say?

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t understand why Negan shoves him off of his lap until he locks eyes with a familiar, mirrored blue. Carl’s face is sleepy, etched in confusion and Rick feels like somebody’s stuck their hand into his chest and seized his heart. He rubs at his eyes and Negan gets up, shifting his pants around whilst Carl isn’t looking. He spares a glance at Rick, raising his eyebrows hastily, and Rick quickly snaps out of his haze. “C-Carl.”

“Dad? Negan?” Carl’s voice is thick with sleep and Rick watches his face, realizing that he hadn’t seen anything. He breathes a sigh of relief.

“Hey, kid.” Negan says, voice normal if not slightly hoarse.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Carl asks.

“Damn. Why is everybody asking me that? Hell, I thought at least one fucker here would be happy to see me. Where is that little angel?” Negan throws Lucille over his shoulder again, as she’d been forgotten somewhere. “I bet my ass she sure as shit would be happy to see me. You morose fuckers are depressing, I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Carl scoffs. “I bet you’d be so happy to see me at your place in the night.”

“Now, see, here’s the difference, Carl,” Negan pokes him in the chest. “I never rolled up here guns-a-fuckin’-blazing. You did that shit to me. I would be a damn dunce not to be a little scared to see you in my abode at night.”

Carl scowls and looks back at his father. His eyebrows knit. “Dad? Are you okay?” Carl looks back at Negan, accusatory. “What’d you do to him?”

“I’m fine, Carl. He didn’t do anything.” Rick clarifies quickly. He catches Negan’s eye for a second before looking away. “We were just… talkin’, that’s all.”

“About?”

“ _Jesus, fuck_. Carl, you are just a curious motherfucker tonight, aren’t you? How about this, you let me see your socket again and I’ll tell you all the juicy details about me and your daddy?” Negan beams, tongue sticking out between his teeth.

Carl scowls again. “Asshole.”

Negan laughs, “How about this, then? Why don’t you walk me out? I think your daddy needs some time to think about our discussion, needs some sleep, he’s real grumpy tonight and I cannot figure out what crawled up his ass.”

A rebuttal is on Carl’s tongue, Rick can see it in the way his face contorts, but Negan just throws an arm around his shoulder and leads him to the front door, tossing a “See you tomorrow, Rick” over his own shoulder.

Rick blinks, watching their figures disappear, trying to ignore the aching between his legs.


	2. before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how it began, from negan's pov.

Negan’s got a fixation on Rick’s eyes, he knows this.

He can’t really help himself either, from falling into that sea of perfect cerulean, floating on its waves.

Rick’s eyes, Negan thinks, are multidimensional. The first time he’d seen them had been monumental, grand in the way of introduction—Rick on his knees, unshed tears sitting on the brim of his eyelids and staring at Negan with a cool concoction of fear, anger and hopelessness. Though Negan thinks he liked that best, the way Rick’s eyes gave away everything in that moment even though his body fought to remain calm, each day he sees Rick, gets drowned in those baby blues, he finds that he doesn’t truly have a favorite.

Negan will be the first one to say it—he’s a sick fuck when it boils down to it. He likes parading around Alexandria, swinging his dick this way and the next, loves seeing the people there glare at him with a whole lot of venom they can’t do shit about and cowering with a whole lot of fear they wish they didn’t have. It shouldn’t get him off the way it does, shouldn’t even begin to fill him with pride, but it does.

If he’s going to be honest, he had to put ample energy into not sporting the world’s biggest hard-on just at the sight of Rick shedding his first tear that night in the clearing. It wasn’t about _Rick_ then, though, it was just about the power. It was just about him having the upper hand over this group that thought they could just mosey on down and cut what he’d worked so hard to build down to absolute shit. He’ll die with his hand on the goddamned bible that it _wasn’t about_ _Rick._

It was never supposed to be about Rick either (hand to fucking God), but shit fucking happens. Shit being those goddamn eyes—though often filled to the brim with hatred, scorn and brewing vengeance—, that soft yet deep Georgian rumble that dripped so often with the rancor saved especially for Negan and… something else.

It had started on a hot fucking day when Negan was feeling extra irritable. Things at The Sanctuary were going just fine, but as per any system that runs well there’ll always be a fucker ready to shit all over it. The guy was young and new, younger than Negan would ever be again but years older than Carl, but by damn, did he walk and talk like a big guy, the kind that know the ins and outs of every operation known to man.

Negan hadn’t really known him; Simon had always been more in tune with the new fuckers that were brought around. He’d been cheating, taking more food than necessary, and conning fucking kids out of their share and overall, just being a greedy fuck. Negan hadn’t expected it to be much in the way of punishment, he figured he’d just rough the guy up, push him around a little and shit’d be back sweet in no time. He’d been dead wrong.

The kid had tried to punch him, swung at him with a killer right hook and if Negan had been any less diligent, it would’ve caught him. “Excuse the _fuck_ out of me?” Negan had all but growled at the kid, who to his surprise didn’t even look a bit shook by the fact that Negan had caught his fist. That was how he knew, _knew_ that fucker had to be stomped out.

He pulled up to Alexandria with clumps of hair and gristle still in Lucille’s barbwire, and his attitude turned to piss. His stare was severe, lacking its usual humor and everybody except Rick could see it. He’d bumped into Rick, not even bothering to give him Lucille and barked out a, “Fuckin’ pantry. Now.”

Rick had furrowed his eyebrows, minding the ache in his shoulder from Negan’s hostility. He’d followed Negan anyhow, struggling to keep up with his brisk gait. “Negan, I’ve already got your stuff together, we don’t need to go to the pantry.”

Negan hadn’t answered.

“Negan.” Rick had tried again, more force in his voice.

Negan stopped, Rick almost running into his back. He turned around swiftly, fixing Rick with a glare that could’ve withered him. “Riiick.” He stretched out through gritted teeth. “Do you really want to piss me the fuck off?” He asked.

Rick’s lip wavered until he gathered himself. They were away from most of the Alexandrian crowd but still, within earshot. “I just—”

“No, Rick,” Negan took a step forward. “I just want to go to the fucking pantry. And you’re going to take me there. Now. Or else, some unlucky piece of Suburban shit is getting their skull cracked open. So what’ll it be?”

Rick set his jaw. Negan cocked his head. Rick’s eyes fumed with anger, simmering down to dejection. “Fine.”

And in all honesty, Negan hadn’t truly needed to go to the fucking pantry, but he just wanted something so specific, something he didn’t even need. He’d scanned the shelves, eyes running over cans and boxes with Rick behind him, arms crossed and mouth tight as a line. “What are you looking for?”

“None of your business.” Negan said.

“Negan—”

“Rick, I swear to God—”

“I can help you if you tell me what it is.” Rick had reasoned.

Negan mulled over the thought. He turned to look at Rick. “I want some marshmallows, Rick. You got any of fucking those?”

Rick’s eyebrows furrowed again, confusion clear on his face. His mouth parted and Negan lifted a hand. “You fuckin’ heard me. I’m not repeating myself.”

Rick pressed his lips together. He looked at the floor. “No.”

Negan cocked his head to the side. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Rick said immediately, eyes skirting around the room.

Negan felt annoyance ripple up his spine. He didn’t have the patience to deal with this shit. “Rick, for fuck’s fucking sake, I am not in the mood for this bullshit. All I want is some goddamn marshmallows so that I, leader of a big ass community, managing other fucking communities, making sure everything is running a-okay, can for fucking _once_ in my life, catch a break and enjoy a relaxing, hot cup of fucking cocoa, then get back to work. Can you do that for me, Rick? Can you give me a break, here?”

“They’re for Judith.” Rick gritted his teeth.

“I think she can survive without them.” Negan shot back.

Rick didn’t respond. Negan grinned humorlessly. “Why the fuck are you testing me today? What is it? You fucking missed me? That it? Shit, I appreciate that, Rick, and fuck, I missed you too, if that’s what you want to hear. Now can you get what I asked for so I can get the holy fuck out of here?”

Again, Rick didn’t respond, eyes glued to the floor. “Jesus, Rick. You are going to make me do something I do not want to do. Lucille ain’t even clean from her last kiss yet, and already, you are just fuckin’ askin’ for her to do it again. She’s gonna think I’m spoilin’ her, yet.”

Rick looked at him suddenly, eyes full of venom that only served to make Negan angry. His nostrils flared. “You don’t have to do anything. You want to do it, don’t kid yourself. If you go out there and kill an innocent, then that’s on you. At least be a fucking man about it.”

Negan didn’t even know when he’d advanced on Rick, just knew that fear had flashed in the slighter man’s eyes and then he was scurrying backwards until he hit the wall. “And what _exactly_ could you possibly know, right now, about being a man, Rick? Please fucking enlighten me, because from where I’m standing you are a whole lot of _bitch_.”

A small amount of fury flared in Rick’s eyes, but Negan didn’t let it grow, wasting no time in dousing that shit completely. “You have no fucking choice but to do what I say, when I say, no matter what, or have you forgotten that? Have you forgotten that I own this fucking make-believe Suburbia and every sorry fuck inside of it, including you?” He snarled. “Let me tell you something, Rick, and let me be clear about this, I have no problem with you playing the macho part out there to save face for your people, to hold onto the tiniest sliver of respect they might have for you, but do not ever kid yourself, Rick—you are _nothing_ but _my bitch_.”

Rick’s mouth gaped but Negan couldn’t stop, he was already on a roll, the prospect of Rick cutting him off only inciting more anger. Why the _fuck_ was everybody testing him today? His hand came up, latching onto Rick’s neck tight, making him grunt. “And you know what good bitches do, Rick? What they’re told. Meaning if I tell you jump, you are going to jump. If I tell you fuckin’ kneel, _bitch_ , you’re going to kneel. If I take my dick out and tell you to suck it, you’re going to _fucking suck it_. You get that, Rick?”

Negan could see Rick get smaller with every word, shrinking in on himself even in Negan’s punishing grip, eyes glossing over with tears. Tears _Negan_ put there. For a moment, Rick’s lip trembled, and Negan found it distracting but he shook it off, increasing the pressure on Rick’s neck and raising an eyebrow in challenge. Rick just stared at him. “Answer me. Now.”

“Y-Yes.”

Negan smiled something terrible. “Yes what, Rick?”

“Yes, I get it.” Rick said, barely above a whisper, voice strained from the weight of Negan’s hand.

“What do you get?” Negan pushed. “Repeat it to me.”

“That you own Alexandria.” He responded, a hand coming up to latch around Negan’s wrist. He looked at him with pleading eyes, tugging softly at his arm.

“And?” Negan didn’t break.

Rick swallowed, eyes fluttering shut, tears running down his face. His voice broke, “And me.”

Negan could have stopped there, he’d already reduced the man to tears, already had him so broken before him, so moldable, soft, just the way he liked him. Negan really could have let Rick keep a sliver of dignity because, fuck, the goddamned marshmallows really weren’t that important, but he fucking wanted them, and he was already so tired of people going up against him. He still felt the leftover rage and embarrassment of having a fucking _kid_ try to take him on in front of his people and bashing that fuck’s head in hadn’t been enough. He was still mad, still burning with the insatiable, sweltering need to make somebody, anybody _submit_ , so that he didn’t feel like he was losing control.

And Rick. Fucking Rick. Rick with his smart mouth and cold, sharp-cutting glares, looking at him like he was the cause of everything that had ever gone wrong in his life, talking to him like he had any fucking right to say anything to Negan when he’d gone fucking easy on him. He hadn’t fucking killed him. He hadn’t fully taken over Alexandria. He’d fucking gone easy on the man that murdered more of his men than he could count on two hands and this was the fucking way he chose to thank him. No, that shit couldn’t stand. Not then and not ever.

So, Negan sawed his teeth together, snarling, “And what else?”

“Negan—”

“Open your fucking eyes.” He said, low. When Rick opened his eyes, dragging them upwards, locking them in Negan’s, he looked wrecked and Negan took satisfaction inside of it. He liked it more than he should have, the way Rick’s eyes were red, watery and pleading. Rick and those fucking eyes. Negan felt his dick stir unexpectedly. His pupils blew and it was a miracle that Rick remained none the wiser at his surprise. He refused to falter, continuing on. “Say it.”

Rick seemed to understand that he didn’t have any wiggle room and his lips parted. “If you tell me to jump… I have to jump. And if you tell me to kneel, I have to k-kneel.” Rick said slowly. Negan only looked at him. Rick’s face flushed a bright red. “You can’t really…?”

“Boy you are really dragging this shit out, huh, Rick?”

“Negan, please don’t—” Rick shook his head, eyes growing frantic.

“I am not doing shit, Rick.”

“Don’t make me say that!” Rick said, exasperated, still trying to get Negan to ease his bruising hold.

“You are going to say it, now, Rick, or I am going to murder somebody. Do I look like I’m fucking around?” Negan stated, leaving no room for argument.

Rick bit down on his lip and Negan tracked the motion with his eyes. Rick’s blush rose up to his ears as his body went limp with submission. His hands shook at his sides and he tore his eyes away from Negan’s face. “I-If you tell me to… suck your dick, I’ve got to do it.”

The words tumbled into Negan’s ears strangely, settling inside of him in a way he hadn’t really expected. He looked at Rick, at the way he stared at the ground, the way embarrassment settled in the crease of his eyebrows. He swallowed, watching his bottom lip tremble, the sudden, very unwelcome thought of taking it between his teeth at the forefront of his brain. Then, Rick’s eyes shot up to Negan’s face again, fear on his face slowly bleeding into confusion. His hand came back up to cover Negan’s wrist, tugging harsher than last time. “N-Negan? You’re hurting me.” Rick rasped.

Negan watched Rick raise his eyebrows in a plea, and it was then that Negan realized he had started pressing harder and was on the way to fucking crushing his trachea. Negan released him immediately, hand falling to his side. Rick coughed violently, touching his neck and flinching at the pain. Negan could already make out the beginnings of a nasty bruise on either side of Rick’s neck, and felt a slight twinge of guilt, among other things.

His gloved hand, that had been holding Lucille the entire time, squeezed her handle a bit harder, just to ground him.

He inhaled through his nose. “Don’t challenge me again, Rick. You got it?” Rick nodded. “Now go get me my fuckin’ marshmallows.”

* * *

It had hardly stopped there, either.

In fact, the pantry incident had just been the boat preparing him for a long haul down Shit Creek without a paddle.

Negan would often find himself in situations whereby he’d get distracted midway through conversations with the Alexandria leader, just getting lost in those fucking eyes, or becoming hyper-fixated on his lips as he spoke, watching his words form. He found his actions becoming more purposeful, his crass language becoming less of a joke. He found himself holding back around Rick, no longer giving him Lucille to hold, no longer slinging his arm around the slighter man, in fear that he’d realize Negan meant more than he let on.

Of course, it was silly, the only thing his dwindling sex innuendoes and lack of physical touch had done was make Rick more alert, more confused. He had seen the way Rick’s eyebrows had furrowed, how his hand had already been outstretched for Lucille the time after the pantry incident, the way Rick’s face had sort of fallen as Negan strolled past him only throwing a, “Hey, Prick,” in his general direction.

He’d seen the way Rick’s eyebrows had knit in confusion when Negan had said less than fifteen words to him the entire visit. He’d seen Rick look shocked when he thought Negan was advancing on him inside of his house, only to realize that he was walking right by him.

Truthfully, there had been numerous incidents whereby Rick had given him that same look of confusion and what Negan only, surprisingly, could fucking pinpoint as dejection. There had a been a day that Rick had asked him if he was alright and Negan had almost blanched before reeling himself back in.

“Right as rain, Rick.” He’d said, not meaning a word of any of it and avoiding Rick’s eyes like the plague.

What a dilemma it was, to want to see and be around Rick but also to want to avoid him. He couldn’t find a balance either, his presence erratic, gone two weeks in a row and then back like he’d never left.

Rick was still the way he’d left him, each time, looking at him warily, eyes anxiety-ridden and despondent, like Negan had kicked his goddamn puppy. That only served to make Negan come up with bullshit scenarios and crazy ideas—did Rick miss him? It was a dumbass idea, there’d never be a world where Rick Grimes wouldn’t be delighted for Negan to drop off the face of the earth. It wasn’t plausible, it could never ever happen in a million years—Rick hated Negan. He saw it every time Rick looked at him, dug into him with those piercing glares that could make a man wither to nothing—but still, there was a part of Negan that wondered. Wondered if Rick had ever thought about him in that way.

Probably not, Negan had known it for a fact. Rick wasn’t even gay. Hell, Negan wasn’t even gay.

But.

On the day that shifted everything, Negan stood in Rick’s home, gazing out of a window, utterly lost in his head. He looked out at the asphalt, the people that walked on it, up at the sky and its cotton clouds.

He could still feel the ghost of Judith’s hair in his palm, and he was mulling over what he’d bring her on his next visit. Carl had taken her away almost immediately and fuck, Negan didn’t blame him, but shit, he still did wish he could see her more often. He was a sucker for kids, what could he say?

Michonne wasn’t around either, he had figured that she preferred not to be when Negan was in their home. He couldn’t blame her for that either. She also was a badass, and had tons of shit to do, so Negan hardly ever saw her around anyhow. He found himself being grateful, despite the uneasiness tickling the inside of his chest at being alone with Rick, that Michonne wasn’t there. He didn’t know exactly how he’d react to seeing them together now, with all of these new, strange feelings.

“Negan?”

Negan’s head swung from the window, eyes landing on Rick. Rick looked at him apprehensively, fingers twitching at his sides. “Yes, Rick?

Rick held his eyes for as long as he could, body fidgeting as he rocked from side to side. He had something on his mind, Negan could tell that much. His fingers gripped Lucille’s handle a bit tighter and he raised an eyebrow. “Rick?” He cursed himself for how soft his voice sounded to his own ears.

Rick swallowed. “Are you—” He stopped, backtracking, seemingly thinking over his words. He clenched his jaw, blinking hard. He tried again. “Did I--- Are you upset with me?”

Negan couldn’t hide the surprise on his face, eyebrows shooting upward. He turned fully to face Rick. Rick’s face blanched, slightly. “I just… I just mean that—Did I do something, Negan? I-If I did, I don’t know what it is and I don’t know what to do… to fix it.”

Negan cocked his head. “Rick.”

“Just, please, Negan, if I’ve done something, you don’t need to bring my people into it. I can fix it.” Rick’s words were hurried, body jerking with his controlled urgency. He stepped forward, toward Negan and Negan felt himself swallow as Rick entered his personal space.

He looked down at Rick. Rick’s eyes fluttered and, fuck, he could see the beginnings of tears in his eyes, and Negan could feel his blood running south. He clenched his teeth. “Rick.” He repeated. “Stop.”

His words didn’t affect Rick. The man held his stare, eyes steely. His lips parted, and Negan shook his head, but his voice was already coming out low, that fucking Georgian drawl rumbling with his next words. “I can fix it, Negan. You just need to tell me how.”

“ _Fuck_ , Rick.” Negan couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth, thick and heavy. There was no mistaking the arousal that dripped off of his tongue and he shut his eyes, tight. He couldn’t help it because, fuck, Negan is just a man, and seeing Rick so willing and so open, eyes so pleading and desperate—Negan is just a man, and he could feel his fucking cock pressing up against his jeans, straining inside of them, and how the fuck was he supposed to explain this to Rick. He made a guttural sound in his throat and swallowed hard before opening his eyes.

Rick’s eyes weren’t on his face anymore. No, Rick was staring downwards, eyes glued to Negan’s cock, mouth parted in shock. Apparently, his cock couldn’t read the room because at the sight of Rick staring, it twitched violently. Negan cursed himself and watched a gasp wrack Rick’s body. For once in his life, as Rick looked back up at him, Negan was at a loss for words. His glove squeaked with the force of his grip on Lucille.

Rick, at first, seemed to be asking for an explanation to this, face contorted in raw confusion, but Negan honestly didn’t have one. He hadn’t sorted this shit out for himself yet, hoped that he’d have time before some bullshit like this happened, so he stayed silent, heart thumping against his ribs, trying not to fucking fidget, Adam’s apple bobbing. Negan looked down at Rick with _fear_ in his eyes— _Jesus Christ_ — and his resolve mostly corroded. Rick could do anything right now. He could take out a gun and shoot him, and Negan would let him.

Then, Rick’s eyes went dull, the life quite literally draining from them. His lip trembled again, and his hands shook at his sides, fists now. “This, too?” Negan must’ve looked puzzled because he continued on. “You want this, too?”

Negan’s mouth parted. His voice cracked on Rick’s name.

Rick flinched. He shook his head slightly, almost in disbelief. “I should have known. You’ve taken everything from us. From me. Except this. Why wouldn’t you want this, too?”

“No, Rick, I don’t—”

“I won’t, Negan.” Rick had said. Negan stared at him. Rick refused to break eye contact. “I _can’t_. N-Now if you want to punish me for that, do it. I’ll take it. Just not them.”

Negan felt irritation in his chest at Rick’s words. He knew it was fair, knew Rick had a right to think the way he did, but still, he couldn’t help it, because Rick was so _wrong_. “Jesus, _fuck_ , Rick.” He seethed. “You really think I’d do that? You really think I’m the kind of guy that fucking punishes people for not wanting to fuck me?”

Rick looked taken aback. “Are you kidding me?”

“I wouldn’t do that shit, Rick. Never. I would never fucking punish you or anybody for not wanting to fuck me.” Negan solidified, ignoring the sting of Rick’s shock. He felt his head pound, hand coming up to cup his forehead. He sighed, deeply. “I don’t want to fuck you, Rick.”

“Then why is your—” Rick cut himself off, face growing red.

“I don’t fucking know!” Negan shot back. “Okay, fucking fine, I want to fuck you, okay? I don’t know, Rick, but I swear, I already _know_ , you don’t have to fuckin’ tell me shit. I know you don’t want to, and I know that I’m a fuckin’ asshole, I know I’m horrible, but I don’t do _that_ , Rick.”

Rick looked at him, uncertainty still on his face. Negan felt vulnerable and small, emotions he absolutely detested. “Why?”

“Look, I know the world has pretty much gone to shit, but that doesn’t mean you just abandon every fuckin’ thing that makes you a decent human being. Me, The Saviors—our biggest fuckin’ rule, hand to God, we don’t ra—”

“No,” Rick said, soft. Negan had stuttered over the rest of his words, felt them die on his tongue. “I meant… why?”

The meaning melted into Negan’s brain. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.” Rick repeated.

“I just—” Negan started. He shifted from one leg to another, the pressure between his legs not easing. “ _Fucking Christ_.”

“Stop.” Disgust washed over Rick’s face.

“My fuckin’ dick is hard, Rick, and you’re trying to get me to have a full-length conversation with the thing that’s makin’ it hard. I’d say right now, I’m doing my fuckin’ best, wouldn’t you?” Negan spat, feeling his cock thrum with a wave of arousal at Rick’s distaste. Fuck, he was all sorts of fucked up.

Rick seemed to think about his next words. He blinked, eyes drying out. “You’re not going to make me do it?”

“No.” Negan answered right away. The last thing he wanted to do was give Rick that impression, therefore giving Rick more reason to hate his guts, increasing the likeliness of him trying to rebel. Negan didn’t need that shit. “Hand to God.” He said, because it sounded better than _I promise_.

Rick eyed him. “So, you’re not mad?” Negan swallowed, shaking his head. Something flashed in Rick’s eyes, something that Negan hadn’t expected, but it was gone as fast as it came, and he wondered if it had even been there at all.

“I’m gonna go, now, Rick.” Negan said, cutting through the silence as he watched Rick stare back at him, cogs turning in his head. He was already pretty mortified and honestly, he didn’t want to stick around for anything else Rick had to say. He also didn’t want to face what would be awkward as all fuck if Carl or Michonne walked through that door.

Rick’s mouth pressed together in a line and he nodded, eyes still prodding, searching. Negan wanted to ask him what he was looking for, ask him what he saw when he looked at him. Then, Rick stepped aside, allowing Negan to slip by.

If Dwight, or any other fucking person he walked by, noticed the hardness in his pants, he sure as fuck didn’t say anything the entire ride back to The Sanctuary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading

**Author's Note:**

> don’t forget to comment and leave kudos! thanks for reading


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